


You Make Me Melt

by Cinnaraz (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Eventual Sex, Fluff, I'm Sorry, I'm a loser, Multi, Summer, Summer Romance, hahahahahaha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Cinnaraz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was a not-serious story that was more about the forbidden romance between two flavors of frozen yogurt than it was about john/dave<br/>I don't intend to finish it</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"French vanilla, please!"

Dave snorts. "Of course you pick the most boring flavor." You choose this moment to affectionately slap him upside the head. "OW! Jesus, Egbert."

Rose taps her fingers on the counter impatiently. "Dave, John, we have other customers. Please refrain from further activities with the sole purpose of holding up the line, and Dave, please make your order." She smiles a little too sweetly to be sincere.

You guys are probably going to be here a lot from now on. It was your idea to come in support of Rose's new job, but also it's summer, and you want to monopolize as much of Dave's time as you can. Maybe having a "usual" frozen yogurt parlor to go to would be a good excuse to hang out with him everyday! Lately, you want nothing more than to be around him. After all, there’s no such thing as too much bro time! Right? Haha. Rose takes Dave's order, and after a few moments, hands you both your respective fro-yos.

"Just chocolate, Dave?" you tease.

"Hey, nobody hates chocolate. Vanilla is exactly what I would expect from you, it suits your personality well enough. And probably your...preferences." He smirks at you while waggling his eyebrows, and you feel like you should understand what he means but you really don't.

"Obviously I prefer vanilla, I ordered it!"

"Ugh, nevermind." You laugh and brush past him on your way to a table.

==> Be Dave Strider

Of course he would be that fucking innocent. Of fucking course. You’re not surprised, but your friend just killed the joke and you’re kind of embarrassed. That’s why you’re face is red, and you’re not wondering whether or not your cute, probably straight friend is actually vanilla. Your thoughts are not going there nope.

You wonder what his kinks would be.

“Dave, why is your face so red?”

Shit. “It’s the heat, Egbert. Striders have delicate skin. We ain’t used to this shit.”

He snickers as he takes a seat at an empty table. “You were raised in Texas, Dave! I bet you’re just not willing to admit I was right about the sunscreen.” This morning he was giving you shit because you refused to put on sunscreen. You didn’t tell him that you were really just afraid Bro put something in it that would dye your skin a weird color.

Like last year. You don’t talk about last year.

“You got me,” you finally say, taking a spoonful of cold, creamy, chocolatey fro-yo into your mouth. It’s not bad. You wouldn’t mind coming here again.

“Sweet, what’s my prize for being right?”

You know he doesn’t actually expect anything, but you want an excuse to spend more time with him. “I’ll pay for your fro-yo the next time we come here.” His eyebrows shoot up.

“Seriously?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Egbert. I can be nice.”

He laughs. “Maybe if that was true I wouldn’t be surprised.” He is such an asshole. Why is he so cute.

“Shut the fuck up, Egbert.”

==> Be the french vanilla

Your name is Frenchie, and you can hardly believe what's happening to you. You've been ordered alongside _Coco_. Coco, the coolest, creamiest, most desired among all fro-yos. And you swear, they're focused _right at you_.

A nervous drop of melted vanilla rolls across your smooth surface in anticipation, and you manage to think at the other yogurt a small, _Hello!_ You feel the stern disapproval of your parent, Nilla Bean, radiating from the refrigerated display.

_Hey, sweet cheeks, I haven't been ordered around you before. How's it hanging?_

You think you're swooning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M REALLY SORRY IT'S SO LATE *cries*  
> A good chunk of the beginning here is yogurt stuff, bear with me, there is some John/Dave shit, don't worry  
> Oh, also I have a writing blog that I rarely update, but I'll post updates on the fic [here](http://ghouliio.tumblr.com).  
> Or you could follow my main blog, [here](http://cinnaraz.tumblr.com).

**Frenchie== >Observe your parent**

Back in the refrigerated display, you're feeling anxious. A few people had ordered Vanilla Bean, and your parent's energy had been bouncing around the bowls of fro-yo for a while, chatting up the other flavors. You've sensed them hovering across from a bowl of Peanut Butter for a while. PB is Coco's twin, and you know for a fact that Nilla doesn't like either of them in the slightest. You wonder what they're talking about. Moreso, you hope they're not talking about what you _think_ they're talking about.

 _Frenchie._ The small voice startles you into manifesting your energy into a small remnant of French Vanilla on the fro-yo scoop, but it's just Nilla, returning to their tin next to yours. You weigh the pros and cons of just staying on the scoop before deciding it's not worth it and returning to your own tin. _Oh, for fuck's sake Frenchie, you're such a weak, timid thing. And you somehow think someyogurt as pretentious and high-profile as_ Coco _would be into you? Keep dreaming, sweetheart._

 _They're nice, Nilla,_ you think in exasperation. _Coco is nice. And no, I don't expect them to like me._

_Bullshit, I saw you melting just a little faster than usual. You mean to tell me it's because the human boy with glasses radiated a lot of heat?_

_...Yes?_ You could feel Nilla's exasperation. They didn't buy it, not even for a second.

_...Listen, Frenchie. I'm not sure if you're aware of my history with PB, but...you can't trust that family. Any of them. And Coco is so popular. There is no way it doesn't go to their head. You will be crushed. Understand?_

You don't respond.

 _Fine. Don't listen. You'll regret it. If you don't, I will make you._ A chill goes through you, and you don't think it's the refrigeration. On that note, Nilla's gone. Back in the temporary vessels helf by other people--but this time, away from PB.

 _Psssst._ You locate the voice. It's one of your siblings, strawberry, on the opposite side of you.

 _Hey, what is it?_ you respond.

_I've been told to pass on a message. Go visit the spoon._

_...Alright, thanks._

_No problem shortcake. Peace out!_

You're a little suspicious. It's difficult to sense flavors when they're inhabiting remnants of their flavor in the scoop, and you wonder vaguely if Nilla's up to something. However, you still sense them outside of the refrigerated display, so you allow your curiosity to get the best of you. You manifest yourself onto the scoop.

 _Yo, wazzup dawg!_ ...It's PB. Maybe you should leave. _Chill out,_ says PB, evidently sensing your discomfort, _I be here ta help yo' thugged-out ass. Coco didn't want Nilla givin' ya too much shit._

_Alright...help me with what?_

_Mah home dawg thinks yo' chill. They want me to make amends wid yo' fam. Might need some help from you, doh, if ya cool wid it?_ Coco...likes you?

_Yeah, yeah of course! Just call me here whenever you wanna plan anything, but we gotta keep this short or Nilla will be suspicious._

_Yeah, we oughta leave soon._ You feel PB's energy beginning to dissipate.

 _Wait! Wait, one question first?_ the other yogurt's energy returns in full.

_Shoot, mah playa._

_What happened between you and Nilla?_

Silence. You begin to panic after a moment, wondering if you destroyed your chance to get close to Coco, when they finally respond. _I fucked up._ Then they were gone.

**Dave== >Wake the fuck up**

"Daaaaave!" An abrasive voice reaches your ears, jarring you from the still, quiet comfort of sleep. Groaning, you roll over and mutter a few unintelligable expletives. "Your Bro let me in," the voice sings in response to an unasked question. You make a mental note to give Bro shit later. You won't put up a huge fuss, though; waking up to a buck toothed dork is better than waking up to the glossy dead eyes of lil' Cal.

If you're being perfectly honest with yourself, you have a thing for this asshole. You're well aware of this thing, but you can't do anything about it. You've been friends forever. You don't want to ruin it.

Alternatively, you've been friends forever. It probably wouldn't be ruined over something as dumb as your crush.

You punish yourself for that dumbass thought by actually getting up, pain blooming behind your shut eyelids where it's too bright anyway. You open them to slits long enough to grab your shades and place them over your sensitive eyes. The pain begins to subside as you blink black spots out of your vision, revealing a brightly grinning Egbert in their place.

"Quiet in the morning, are we?" he teases, bumping into you playfully.

"If you touch me again, I will pee on you," you grumble.

"Please don't."

You bicker all the way downstairs, painting the hallway with empty insults and reluctant laughter. When you reach the kitchen, you freeze.

It's clean. Too clean. Clean enough to lure you into a false sense of security. So clean, in fact, that you can almost certainly bet on it being a trap.

Probably smuppets.

"Let's go out for breakfast," you say awkwardly, and John throws you a questioning glance. You respond with one of warning. "We're totally out of apple juice. Lame, I know, what kind of respectable household doesn't have apple juice? That's right, none, because anyone who doesn't love that sweet golden nectar doesn't deserve the respect of a Strider."

John snickers. "Yeah, and I suppose no respectable household lives without shitty swords and puppets either," he says as you begin to lead the way out.

"Shitty weapons are a requirement," you say as you reach for the door handle, "but the puppets are the one reason our home will never be respectable." At that moment, you open the door, triggering a myriad of the aforementioned beasts to fall from above, burying you in puppet dong and rage while John cackles next to the pile, just out of range.

"I helped set that one," he chokes out between bursts of laughter.

"Oh _hell_ no," you say, lunging forward and pulling him into the pile with you. He squeaks in surprise, still shaking with laughter, but shoves you down into the pile in response. You throw a smuppet at his face.

Pretty soon it's an all out war, half wrestling, half attacking with smuppets, and you decide to call it off when he has you pinned down and you can't bring yourself to shove him off. Warmth creeps up your neck when you realize you spent a few moments too long admiring his breathless smile and exerted flush.

"Hey dude, let's go, I'm starving," is your excuse. He nods and helps you up, and you both head out.

**John== >Fast foward an hour**

That's how long it takes you both to walk to Manhattan Bagel, get two breakfast sandwiches, and find a park bench to eat them at. The sky is mostly clear, air warm but not hot enough that Dave's long sleeves and jeans ensemble is completely unreasonable.

"Y'know," you say between bites, breaking the silence, "if you slept much longer, Manhattan Bagel might be closed."

Dave puts down his sandwich, shifting to face you. "Hey, that's bullshit, I only slept 'till noon, it's not my fault you're a disgusting morning person."

"I don't get up that early!" you protest.

"When did you get up?"

"Eight."

"An hour after I went to sleep," he observes, picking up his sandwich again. You stare at him, dumbfounded.

"What the hell were you doing until seven in the morning?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Just trolling people on omegle."

"Doing what?" Dave blanches and his mouth pulls into a tight line. You're not so sure you want to hear the answer anymore, but you're curious anyway. "Dave?"

"Hey, wanna go bother Rose at work?" he asks suddenly, standing up.

You shrug and smile, letting it drop. "Yeah, let's go!"

**Dave== >Keep your damn mouth shut**

No one needs to know you were twerking to that Lazy Town remix in lingerie and a horse mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lazy Town Remix: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5KxZ5Lc_YA
> 
> ~~sorry for my shitty writing I honestly had no idea what to do with the humans for one and a half months so I eventually decided "fuck it" and wrote this chapter for you all anyway uwu~~

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a fucking pun I'm sorry
> 
> Yeah I'm not really serious about this but hey I'll continue writing JohnDave if you guys end up liking it c:


End file.
